


A Taste of Your Own Medicine

by IChallengeMyFate (Ealdremen)



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealdremen/pseuds/IChallengeMyFate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin trips and scrapes her knee while on patrol with Chrom and Frederick, and Frederick insists she takes the day off due to her “injury”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Your Own Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ichallengemyfate.tumblr.com.

It had been a scrape.

Just _one_ scrape on her knee from a small tumble due to a tiny, _minuscule_ rock in the path. On a regular day, Robin would have just dusted off her clothes and kept up the patrol with Chrom and Frederick.

But Frederick had loudly proclaimed he had failed in his duty to keep the path clear, turning what would have been an unlucky mishap into an embarrassing spectacle. Her attempts at calming Frederick down had been in vain, and Frederick had all but carried her back to her tent, insisting that she take the day off and ignoring her protests. To make matters worse, her body had picked that exact moment to let out a loud sneeze, and Frederick had instantly assumed she had come down with something.

So, now Robin was stuck in a tightly-tucked bedroll, her leg thoroughly swathed in bandages as if she had been stabbed, and a damp cloth on her forehead. Frederick was removing his gauntlets and laying them to the side, the metal clinking loudly as he did.

“Frederick, this really isn’t–” Robin cut herself off when he removed the cloth and placed his bare hand on her forehead, her words trailing off into a frustrated groan.

“No fever,” Frederick announced, replacing the cloth. “But that doesn’t rule out the possibility of it getting worse.”

Robin peeled off the cloth and tossed it aside, slightly disappointed that it hadn’t landed on her incessant worrier of a husband. “I already told you, I’m _fine._ And besides that, I have a meeting with Chrom to discuss the next…”

He almost seemed to swell with pride as he informed her, “No need to worry. I already notified milord of your current state.”

She could only imagine how Chrom had probably laughed the whole way back to his tent when Frederick turned him away. He of all people probably knew it was impossible to deter Frederick from anything he considered his “sworn duty” – a duty that apparently included treating every tiny cut like a mortal wound. Robin grit her teeth.

“My… current state,” she repeated in monotone. She sighed and wiped some of the lingering moisture from the cloth from her brow. “Look, Frederick, I–”

The two of them looked at the entrance to the tent on hearing someone approach. Robin could see the movement of a shadow outside the tent.

“Frederick? Are you there?” The voice was slightly muffled and sounded somewhat amused, but Robin could immediately recognize Maribelle’s voice. “I, ah, brought the tea you requested.”

Robin stared at Frederick in disbelief. “Tea? Really?”

“A moment,” he said curtly.

Frederick inclined his head in a small bow and stood up, his greaves clinking as he rose. He pushed open the tent flap, and sunlight streamed into the tent. Past Frederick’s large frame, Robin could spy Maribelle just barely suppressing a giggle as she gingerly passed a teapot and a small cup into Frederick’s hands.

Hoping that Maribelle would see, Robin sat up and desperately mouthed “Save me,” even waving her arms to get the other woman’s attention. If Maribelle saw, she didn’t indicate it, for she gave Frederick a polite curtsy and left, holding a hand to her mouth to hide her grin. Defeated, Robin slumped back into the bedroll and slowly dragged her hands down her face. This whole situation almost felt like a huge joke at her expense.

“Milady?”

At the sound of Frederick’s voice, she removed her hands from her face and peered at him. Frederick knelt down by her side, kettle and teacup in hand. Robin sat up again and was about to protest when he started speaking again.

“This tea has ginger and honey. It’s a simple but very effective remedy.” He lifted the teapot’s lid and inhaled the aroma. “I would have brought it earlier, but I had to bandage your leg first. Maribelle offered to watch the pot, thankfully.”

Robin stared at the steam wafting from the kettle, hardly able to believe how something so inconsequential had led to… _this._ While Frederick had always been cautious, she only just now realized the full extent of what Chrom and Lissa had meant when they called him “a nanny in shining armor”. Frederick hummed to himself as he poured the golden-orange liquid into the teacup, apparently oblivious to the glare Robin was shooting him.

“Here you are,” he said, holding out the teacup and saucer. “Careful, it’s hot. It wouldn’t do if you burned your tongue on top of your sickness.”

Robin took the teacup from him without even thinking about what she was doing. As Robin raised the cup to her lips, she realized what she had done and nearly cursed aloud. When she set the cup aside on the ground, she was greeted with a quizzical glance from Frederick. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that Frederick was just concerned, and she kept her voice calm.

“Frederick… did you really have to get Maribelle to bring _tea_ for me?” At the rate this was going, Frederick’s overreaction would be a spectacle the whole army was involved in. Robin could already imagine him insisting that Sully or Stahl lend Robin a horse when they broke camp and marched onwards to their next destination.

He furrowed his brow. Glancing from Robin and then back to the teacup, he asked, “Do you not like ginger? It’s an acquired taste – much like bear meat, I’d assume.”

The slight hint of humor didn’t outweigh the frustration of his unnecessary concern, but there was still something charming about his attempt to lighten the mood. Robin closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten to keep herself from smiling at the memories of Frederick gagging at the mere _smell_ of cooked bear meat, but it wasn’t working. The grin started at the corners of her mouth, and she shook her head to get rid of it.

“Is that a no?” Frederick set the lid back on top of the pot and stood up. “I’ll go make another batch of tea without ginger, then.”

Before he could leave, Robin, for lack of anywhere else she could grab, took hold of his leg. Even more concerned now, he glanced down at her. She pushed herself to her feet, a needlessly difficult process due to how tightly wound the bandages on her knee were. Now eye-level with Frederick, she crossed her arms.

“Frederick, I’m not sick. I sneezed a little too hard and then tripped.” Robin pushed some of her hair out of her face and added, “Gods, do you do this every time, say, _Sumia_ falls?”

Frederick tilted his head, as if trying to detect some kind of hidden meaning in her words. Apparently finding none, he responded, “Of course not.”

“But she falls a lot, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, but she’s always fine afterwards. I merely ask if she’s alright and–” Frederick halted, and Robin couldn’t suppress her smirk. “Oh. I think I see your point.”

“You don’t need to treat me like a…” Robin waved her hand in a circular motion and bit her lip, trying to find an appropriate simile. “…delicate flower.” It hadn’t quite been what she was going for, but it was close enough. “I’m glad I can rely on you for when things _do_ get bad, but…”

Frederick let out a sneeze. Robin arched an eyebrow, and her smile grew wider.

Lightly jabbing him in the chest, she remarked, “Maybe _you’re_ the one who needs a day off, Freddy-Bear.”

He narrowed his eyes at the nickname, and she lightly laughed. Robin swept her coat off of the crate Frederick had draped it over when they first returned to the tent. Quickly doing up the top buttons, she stared at Frederick in mock concern. Lightly, Robin touched her hand to Frederick’s forehead, then retracted it as if she’d been burned.

“Wait here. I’ll go tell Chrom that you’ve fallen ill. Maybe I should get Maribelle to brew more tea? I heard she knows quite the recipe for tea made from bear blood.” Frederick’s grimace of disgust nearly broke her composure. “It’d go well with a nice bear jerky meal… That’ll perk you up right away.”

Thoughtfully, she stroked her chin. Frederick gawked at her, and she slipped out of the tent, laughing to herself. Behind her, she could hear Frederick’s cries of protest as he shoved past the tent flap and gave pursuit.

“Milady – no, Robin! Wait! Stop! I’m not ill!”


End file.
